Phantom Thread Review: The Most Surprising Love Story of the Year

There’s something endearing, but also puzzling, about Paul Thomas Anderson’s romantic partnership with actress-comedian Maya Rudolph. Forgive me for delving into a director’s personal life, but Phantom Thread, the new film from the celebrated auteur opening December 25, kind of feels like an invitation for some gentle scrutiny. So, I’m gonna do it. On the one side you have Anderson, whose past three films have been elusive, esoteric pieces, studied, formal, intense, and a little cold. And then there’s Rudolph, such a loose, warm, amiably goofy performer and personality. What is the secret to this union of seeming opposites, which has lasted for 16 years and produced four children? I think Phantom Thread offers some answers to that question, in unexpectedly sweet and strange fashion.

Phantom Thread is the second movie this season that finds a lauded writer-director processing how he, as an artist, has functioned in his personal relationships. In September, Darren Aronofsky gave us a hectic, harrowing allegorical look at a creator who’s also a destroyer with Mother!—a movie starring the woman he was dating at the time of filming, and that seems to refer back to a past marriage with another famous actress. The film is stuffed with biblical allusion and is, to my mind, a pompous, sneakily self-exonerating mess. Some people loved it, of course.

Give me Anderson’s version of that same inquest over Aronofsky’s any day. Like Mother!, Phantom Thread is about an unyielding artist. Daniel Day-Lewis, giving us one last blessing before he disappears into his version of retirement, plays Reynolds Woodcock, a sought-after high-end dress designer in 1950s London. Reynolds is exacting and frequently lost in indulgent distraction, wrapping himself up in his genius and expecting all those around him to be in his low orbit—to be called on and used whenever he is ready but to otherwise remain out of the way. Which means he’s not the best guy to date, dismissing women when they’ve begun to annoy him in some petty way, or when they get too close to seeing beyond whatever tortured artist bullshit he’s steeped himself in. (There’s a dead mother, of course.)

Which is, perhaps, a familiar character. But what Anderson does with this pile of chauvinist ego and entitlement is continually surprising. Most crucially, Anderson puts two formidable women beside Reynolds, and Phantom Thread undergoes a disarming transformation from chilly portrait of a cruel and powerful male narcissist to what could be described as a romantic comedy. The great Lesley Manville plays Reynolds’s sister, Cyril, a crisp and commanding business partner—and, in subtle ways, a confidant. She does the breaking up for Reynolds, firmly but not unkindly giving the current despondent young lady the boot when Reynolds has tired of her. That’s the formula until the arrival of Alma (Vicky Krieps), an émigré waitress Reynolds brings from the countryside to London, installing her in his stately townhome as his muse and lover. It’s an arrangement we just know will end at some point, and badly—because this is a Paul Thomas Anderson movie, and some sense of ruin or despair tends to arrive eventually in his films.

But Phantom Thread is something else, quite welcomely. As Reynolds and Alma circle one another, figuring out their dynamic by testing and prodding to see where boundaries lie, something like actual parity gradually develops between them. I won’t say how, exactly, because that would be something of a spoiler. But by the film’s lovely, darkly amusing end, it’s become clear that Reynolds and Alma have found some corresponding need and understanding within each other, that theirs is a bond that works because it sometimes breaks, because it’s dramatic and odd and makes a bizarre kind of sense only to them.

Which is a hell of a testament to a marriage (unofficial or not), isn’t it? After seeing the film, I found myself thinking how touched I would be if I were Rudolph, watching a film that’s so ardently honest (if a bit exaggerated) about the charged and complex exchanges of couplehood, the peculiar compromises of commitment. There’s a “you and me babe, against the world” kind of vibe to Phantom Thread—it winks with the conspiratorial coziness of a private joke. It’s fiercely romantic, in its improbable way. Cyril does not get shoved off to the side, either. Her and her brother’s relationship gets its fair due, its own affectionate assessment. (How often are brother-sister dynamics between older people explored in cinema? Not very!) What initially seems like another alienating P.T.A. outing reveals itself, in quiet but glorious bursts, to be a wry and heartfelt love poem.

And how ravishing it is. Anderson does his own cinematography, styling the film with a grainy, muted texture—tailored and expensive but lived-in. Jonny Greenwood’s lush, indispensable score is—I’m gonna say it—the fourth major character in the film. His compositions are airborne on curious breezes, lilting and sinister, playful and sincere. It’s just gorgeous work, as integral to the experience of the film as its sterling trio of lead actors.

Day-Lewis is a lot smaller here than he was in his first collaboration with Anderson, 2007’s howling There Will Be Blood. Which is a nice change. In Day-Lewis’s hands, Reynolds is a bully and a brat, but we see some bits of decency peeking out through all his measured prickliness. He’s obnoxious, this man who professionally, arrogantly instructs women how to comport themselves and then treats it as empowerment. But he’s also funny and charming in his moody way. There are a few moments of towering anger, but mostly Day-Lewis keeps things interior; Reynolds is a more reserved and watchful kind of jerk. He’s complemented well by Manville, who plays Cyril with a flinty poise that does not deny her her humanity. Unmarried herself, Cyril could easily have been rendered a brittle spinster. But Manville and Anderson instead give Cyril a confidence, a knowing, a self-possession that feels a bit revolutionary. She’s not alone. Because she has Reynolds, yes. But also because she has her business, and she has herself.

It’s Krieps, though, who—mostly unknown to me before this—makes the strongest impression. The Luxembourg actress has been handed a complicated role: a woman who’s both antagonized and antagonizing, an increasingly autonomous half of this alternately thrashing and tender pas de deux. Krieps finds just the right bearing through the material, mixing the pain and the humor and the slightly more surreal stuff to stand strongly toe-to-toe with Day-Lewis. It’s a terrific breakthrough performance, wise and clever and sexy. Alma is quite a creation. If that was how my filmmaker partner wanted to show some version of me to the world, I think I’d be a pretty happy muse indeed.

But then again, what do I know about what the film means to Maya Rudolph? Or about what any gesture means to any couple, really? As Phantom Thread winningly argues, it doesn’t much matter how I see it, or how anyone else on the outside does. In the end, there’s only one person who really needs to get it—and only one person who really can.

Zendaya — Spider-Man: Homecoming

Zendaya is in Homecoming for maybe all of 10 minutes, but she uses her time extra-effectively. Her performance as Michelle, an antisocial teen with a quick wit, was such an impressive turnaround from the young star’s glamorous persona that you’d be forgiven for forgetting it was even her.

Barry Keoghan — Killing of a Sacred Deer

Director Yorgos Lanthimos must have thanked his lucky stars when he cast Keoghan in this film as Martin, a chilling young man who casts a sort of curse on a family. Keoghan elevates Lanthimos’s preference for staccato acting, adding a layer of menace to his scenes that works its way to a grand, bloody payoff.

Photo: By Jima (Atsushi Nishijima)/Courtesy of A24.

Timothée Chalamet — Lady Bird

Chalamet makes a pitch-perfect turn as Kyle, an angsty boy in a band who rolls his own cigarettes and lectures on the dangers of cell phones and capitalism. We all knew a Kyle, and Chalamet immaculately captured the apex version of that particular brand of high-school snob. And yes, we know his biggest role this year was in Call Me by Your Name, but there’s actually someone else from that film worth mentioning . . .

Photo: By Merie Wallace/Courtesy of A24.

Michael Stuhlbarg — Call Me by Your Name

Playing a lovable father is easy enough, but Stuhlbarg imbues his role with such warmth and passion that you’ll leave the film wishing he had been given even more to do. There’s one monologue in particular (we shan’t spoil the particulars) that he delivers about life and love that’s so big and beautiful it’ll break your heart, pick up the pieces, and mend it all over again.

Photo: By Luca Campri/Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

Domhnall Gleeson — Mother!

This demented, polarizing drama from Darren Aronofsky has a Lot! Going! On! But no matter what you think of it, you have to admit that Domhnall Gleeson makes a mesmerizing turn as a Cain-ish evil son who dashes into the mansion like a malevolent whirlwind. (Honorable mention: Kristen Wiig, who shows up toward the end of the film for a surprisingly violent and unintentionally hilarious twist.)

Photo: By Samir Hussein/Getty Images.

Doug Jones — The Shape of Water

Guillermo del Toro’s sumptuous romance is basically engineered to make you fall in love with Jones, who is unrecognizable as a mysterious creature halfway between a fish and a man. The actor, who’s made a career out of playing a variety of otherwordly creatures, plays this role with a strange sort of innocence mixed with feral roughness—but doesn’t give too much away, always leaving us curious about the fish-man’s story.

Photo: Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Brooklynn Prince — The Florida Project

Prince is only 7 years old, and The Florida Project is only her second movie! Ever! In it, she plays a little girl named Moonee who lives in an Orlando motel with her mother. Not only does she have natural charisma, but she also easily holds her own with co-star Willem Dafoe, a sign that her nascent career is destined for so much more.

Photo: Courtesy of A24.

Zendaya — Spider-Man: Homecoming

Zendaya is in Homecoming for maybe all of 10 minutes, but she uses her time extra-effectively. Her performance as Michelle, an antisocial teen with a quick wit, was such an impressive turnaround from the young star’s glamorous persona that you’d be forgiven for forgetting it was even her.

Barry Keoghan — Killing of a Sacred Deer

Director Yorgos Lanthimos must have thanked his lucky stars when he cast Keoghan in this film as Martin, a chilling young man who casts a sort of curse on a family. Keoghan elevates Lanthimos’s preference for staccato acting, adding a layer of menace to his scenes that works its way to a grand, bloody payoff.

By Jima (Atsushi Nishijima)/Courtesy of A24.

Timothée Chalamet — Lady Bird

Chalamet makes a pitch-perfect turn as Kyle, an angsty boy in a band who rolls his own cigarettes and lectures on the dangers of cell phones and capitalism. We all knew a Kyle, and Chalamet immaculately captured the apex version of that particular brand of high-school snob. And yes, we know his biggest role this year was in Call Me by Your Name, but there’s actually someone else from that film worth mentioning . . .

By Merie Wallace/Courtesy of A24.

Michael Stuhlbarg — Call Me by Your Name

Playing a lovable father is easy enough, but Stuhlbarg imbues his role with such warmth and passion that you’ll leave the film wishing he had been given even more to do. There’s one monologue in particular (we shan’t spoil the particulars) that he delivers about life and love that’s so big and beautiful it’ll break your heart, pick up the pieces, and mend it all over again.

By Luca Campri/Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

Hong Chau — Downsizing

While her role in the Alexander Payne film has beenquite polarizing, Chau ably takes on the challenging role of a Vietnamese activist turned downsized maid, gripping the heart of the film out from under lead star Matt Damon. She’s also since left a mark on the awards circuit, picking up the film’s sole Golden Globe nomination.

Tiffany Haddish — Girls Trip

Is there any actor alive having a better year than Tiffany Haddish? The comedian finally entered the mainstream playing Dina, a confetti explosion of a person who starts parties as easily as she starts fights. Haddish has since comfortably rode the wave to true stardom. Just don’t use the word “scene-stealer” around her: “I’m from South Central Los Angeles, so for somebody to say you stole something—that’s offensive,” she once jokingly told Vanity Fair.

Betty Gabriel — Get Out

Jordan Peele’s feature directorial debut is an instant classic, not least because it introduced the world to the comedian’s brilliant horror sensibilities. It also assembled an extraordinary cast of future stars, including Daniel Kaluuya and Lil Rel Howery, both breakouts in their own right. However, it also introduced mainstream audiences to Betty Gabriel, a little-known actress who plays the incredibly creepy role of Georgina the maid. Who could forget the terrifying “No, no, no” scene when she confronts Kaluuya about touching his cell phone? It’s a horror master class in its own right.

Courtesy of Universal Pictures.

Pom Klementieff — Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2

There’s so much going on in Guardians of the Galaxy that it’s true comedic respite whenever we get to spend time with Klementieff, who plays Mantis. The wide-eyed ward is endlessly curious and absurdly precious, an empath who soaks up all the feelings around her and doles out emotions when other people really need ’em. Protect Mantis at all costs!

Courtesy of Marvel Studios.

Domhnall Gleeson — Mother!

This demented, polarizing drama from Darren Aronofsky has a Lot! Going! On! But no matter what you think of it, you have to admit that Domhnall Gleeson makes a mesmerizing turn as a Cain-ish evil son who dashes into the mansion like a malevolent whirlwind. (Honorable mention: Kristen Wiig, who shows up toward the end of the film for a surprisingly violent and unintentionally hilarious twist.)

By Samir Hussein/Getty Images.

Doug Jones — The Shape of Water

Guillermo del Toro’s sumptuous romance is basically engineered to make you fall in love with Jones, who is unrecognizable as a mysterious creature halfway between a fish and a man. The actor, who’s made a career out of playing a variety of otherwordly creatures, plays this role with a strange sort of innocence mixed with feral roughness—but doesn’t give too much away, always leaving us curious about the fish-man’s story.

Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Brooklynn Prince — The Florida Project

Prince is only 7 years old, and The Florida Project is only her second movie! Ever! In it, she plays a little girl named Moonee who lives in an Orlando motel with her mother. Not only does she have natural charisma, but she also easily holds her own with co-star Willem Dafoe, a sign that her nascent career is destined for so much more.